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After meals from garbage cans and dumpsters, night after night the forgotten, youth of America find their beds under bridges and on the streets. Some are forced to depend on the generosity and kindness of strangers, others make their ways off of more dangerous, dirty work, as they panhandled to sustain their existence. They live their lives experiencing the extreme pains of hunger, the constant uncertainty and danger of living on the streets, exhaustion, depression, and social rejection—and all of this by their own choice.
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He was breathing heavy, sweat rolling down his body. His large hands gripped the metal face as he pulled himself over, ignoring the shouts of police officers behind him. Once over the fence, Tyler continued his sprint down the long alleyway and he shoved his way down the busy street. People sighed and yelled at him but he wasn't listening. All he cared about was that the cops weren't following him anymore.
He'd just managed to steal six purses in Centeral Park, run a few blocks and escape from cops. It wasn't like a bunch of buisness men, caught up in their society of rules and properness were going to bother him. Tyler never understood why someone would want to live like that. What's the point of living a nine to five life where all you do is wakeup, eat breakfast, go to work and come home every single day? His life was filled with adventure, crime and adreneline rushes and it was all he needed to be satisfied.
Tyler slowed his pace as the shouted subsided and the busy street turned into one with only a few people on it. The smell of pastries and baksed goods filled the air as Tyler passed an Italian bakery and then he turned short into the alleyway next to it. He walked to the back of the alleyway, jumping over the rusted dumpster to reveal a rather large area, probably once used as a junkyard, that was now a dirt area. It was where he lived, it was where other homeless teenagers lived. Most of the area was divided up into their own personal sections, mostly filled with newspapers, dirty blankets and little items they had managed to steal.
Afte looking around, he glanced up at the sky, seeing that it was probably three or four. The sun wasn't as strong as it was on early July days which meant it was atleast past noon. Walking towards the back of the area, Tyler pulled out a lighter and cigarette from his pocket and lit it up, inhaling the first breath of relaxing smoke.
After meals from garbage cans and dumpsters, night after night the forgotten, youth of America find their beds under bridges and on the streets. Some are forced to depend on the generosity and kindness of strangers, others make their ways off of more dangerous, dirty work, as they panhandled to sustain their existence. They live their lives experiencing the extreme pains of hunger, the constant uncertainty and danger of living on the streets, exhaustion, depression, and social rejection—and all of this by their own choice.
--
He was breathing heavy, sweat rolling down his body. His large hands gripped the metal face as he pulled himself over, ignoring the shouts of police officers behind him. Once over the fence, Tyler continued his sprint down the long alleyway and he shoved his way down the busy street. People sighed and yelled at him but he wasn't listening. All he cared about was that the cops weren't following him anymore.
He'd just managed to steal six purses in Centeral Park, run a few blocks and escape from cops. It wasn't like a bunch of buisness men, caught up in their society of rules and properness were going to bother him. Tyler never understood why someone would want to live like that. What's the point of living a nine to five life where all you do is wakeup, eat breakfast, go to work and come home every single day? His life was filled with adventure, crime and adreneline rushes and it was all he needed to be satisfied.
Tyler slowed his pace as the shouted subsided and the busy street turned into one with only a few people on it. The smell of pastries and baksed goods filled the air as Tyler passed an Italian bakery and then he turned short into the alleyway next to it. He walked to the back of the alleyway, jumping over the rusted dumpster to reveal a rather large area, probably once used as a junkyard, that was now a dirt area. It was where he lived, it was where other homeless teenagers lived. Most of the area was divided up into their own personal sections, mostly filled with newspapers, dirty blankets and little items they had managed to steal.
Afte looking around, he glanced up at the sky, seeing that it was probably three or four. The sun wasn't as strong as it was on early July days which meant it was atleast past noon. Walking towards the back of the area, Tyler pulled out a lighter and cigarette from his pocket and lit it up, inhaling the first breath of relaxing smoke.
